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The world can no longer afford two disconnected frameworks for the same global emergency.
This week, governments are negotiating climate finance in Belém, Brazil and new global tax rules in Nairobi, Kenya. The coincidence of these talks happening at the same time—yet with almost no structured conversation between them—may be the clearest indicator of how disconnected the global response still is.
Climate negotiators discuss financing needs without asking where predictable public resources will come from, while tax negotiators debate revenue rules without acknowledging the rising costs of the climate crisis.
Treating these as separate worlds is no longer viable. Both deal with cross-border harms and deep inequality, and both require cooperation grounded in equity and responsibility.
The world cannot afford two disconnected frameworks for the same global emergency.
The climate regime learned early that unequal responsibility cannot be ignored. Under the Paris Agreement, global standards are paired with nationally determined plans. The system links international expectations with domestic realities.
The climate crisis has made the links between public finance, inequality, and environmental survival impossible to ignore.
International taxation has never made this leap. Failure to cooperate has allowed multinational corporations and wealthy individuals to underpay tax by shifting profits to low-tax jurisdictions and hiding wealth behind secrecy. As a result, countries lose an estimated US$492 billion each year to cross-border tax abuse, according to research by the Tax Justice Network. These losses directly undermine governments’ ability to fund the climate action, social protection, care systems and economic diversification essential for a just transition.
With this round of Nairobi negotiations now concluded, countries have signaled a rare opportunity to advance a stronger UN tax convention—one that delivers fairer rules on taxing rights, tackles profit shifting, and strengthens transparency.
The convention represents a historic chance to shift the burden from ordinary people to those who profit most from pollution and extraction, and to build an international system that restores countries’ tax sovereignty—the ability of states to use tax to deliver on their people’s aspirations.
Cities, states, and regions are carrying the weight of climate action. They build early warning systems, reinforce infrastructure, manage disaster response, and support communities during heatwaves, floods, and droughts. In practice, this means that the vast majority of climate implementation takes place at the subnational level—in many countries this accounts for 70 percent or more of climate-significant public expenditure, rising to over 80 percent in some cases. Yet these same actors receive only around 10 per cent of climate finance.
This mismatch is structural. Global climate finance is built around national governments and large international funds, with access that is slow, complex, and tilted toward institutions with high administrative capacity. Local authorities dealing with climate impacts every day are left without the stable resources they need.
Despite this, subnational governments are modelling practical, fair climate finance. Kerala’s 1 percent flood levy helps rebuild homes, roads, and schools after major floods and strengthens community readiness for future shocks. Elsewhere, solidarity arrangements between neighbouring jurisdictions channel revenue from polluting activities into joint adaptation projects. Together, these examples show how small, well-designed levies can generate stable public revenue and ensure those with greater responsibility contribute more.
These local approaches matter far beyond their borders. They show that progressive, people-centred taxation can be implemented at scale and can complement national and international systems. They are blueprints for how global rules could be designed to be more equitable and more closely aligned with lived realities.
A coalition of eight countries—including Kenya, Colombia, Barbados, the Dominican Republic, Mozambique, Tanzania, France, and Spain—launched the Premium Flyers Solidarity Coalition, backing levies on business class, first class, and private jet travel. These charges target the highest emitters and, if coordinated across willing countries, could raise around €121 billion a year, depending on design—offering a major new source of finance for adaptation, resilience, and loss and damage.
This approach builds on existing practice: more than 52 countries already apply some form of aviation levy. Several governments in the Global South are now examining just and equitable air-passenger levies that place higher costs on higher-income and higher-emitting travellers. In Kenya, for example, the new Air Passenger Service Charge sets fees at KSh 600 (about US $4) for domestic flights and KSh 6,500 (about US $50) for international flights, with higher rates for premium-class travel and the possibility of future increases through Gazette notice. These measures demonstrate how countries can advance climate ambition while strengthening the revenue tools needed to deliver it.
For many countries across Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean, fiscal space is tightening, debt is rising, and private finance cannot meet essential adaptation needs. Solidarity levies are not a replacement for existing commitments, but they remain one of the most practical tools for generating reliable, debt-free public revenue at the scale highlighted in the Baku-to-Belém roadmap.
A familiar dynamic has emerged in Nairobi. Countries from Africa and the wider South are pushing for meaningful shifts, while some high-income countries and tax havens are using procedural delays and vague language to avoid commitments. Concerns about sovereignty are raised selectively, even as the climate crisis shows that sovereignty today is strengthened through cooperation, shared rules, and predictable public finance—not through isolation.
A new global tax system is being designed, but many negotiators do not yet seem aware of the scale of this moment or its implications for climate action, inequality, and development. Without mechanisms to tax major emitters, high-net-worth individuals, and multinational polluters, the emerging convention risks becoming another symbolic agreement.
The reforms under discussion are not abstract. Ending harmful tax incentives, tackling profit shifting, and strengthening transparency could raise US$2.6 trillion a year for governments worldwide—more than enough to meet climate-finance needs and expand fiscal space for development. These are the tools countries require to invest in resilience and reduce debt pressures. Choosing not to adopt them is, in effect, choosing climate austerity—underfunded systems facing ever-rising climate costs.
The climate crisis has made the links between public finance, inequality, and environmental survival impossible to ignore. Since 2015, the richest 1 percent have captured US$33.9 trillion in newly created wealth—an amount that dwarfs the total wealth owned today by the entire bottom half of the world’s population.
Alongside this, the world's largest oil and gas companies made around US$200 billion in profits in 2022, much of it in the form of windfall gains amid the global energy crisis triggered by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. And all of this sits atop a global economy that still directs more than US$7 trillion a year in fossil fuel subsidies—public money that props up the very industries driving the crisis.
It is against this concentration of wealth and public resources that this week’s negotiations show how closely climate action and revenue systems are intertwined. Recognizing that connection—and acting on it—will determine the future governments choose to build, and whose pockets they expect to fund it.
"It is time to put these old fuels where they belong—in the ground of history.”
An estimated 50,000 people took to the streets of Belém do Pará, Brazil, on Saturday to demonstrate outside the halls of the United Nations annual climate summit, holding a "Great People's March" and makeshift "Funeral for Fossil Fuels" as they demanded a just transition toward a more renewable energy system and egalitarian economy.
Organized by civil society organizations and Indigenous Peoples groups from Brazil and beyond, the tens of thousands who marched outside the thirtieth Conference of the Parties (COP30) summit called for an end to the rapacious greed of the oil, gas, and coal companies as they advocated for big polluters to pay for the large-scale damage their businesses have caused worldwide over the last century.
“We are tens of thousands here today, on the streets of Belém, to show negotiators at COP30 that this is what people power looks like," said Carolina Pasquali, executive director of Greenpeace Brazil, said as the march took hold. "Yesterday we found out that one in every 25 COP30 participants is a fossil fuel lobbyist, proportionally a 12% increase from last year’s COP. How can the climate crisis be solved while those creating it are influencing the talks and delaying decisions? The people are getting fed up–enough talking, we need action and we need it now.”
The report by the Kick Big Polluters Out coalition last week showed that at least 1,600 lobbyists from the fossil fuel industry are present at the conference, making it the second-largest delegation overall, second only to Brazil's, the host nation.
"It’s common sense that you cannot solve a problem by giving power to those who caused it," said Jax Bongon from the Philippines-based IBON International, a member of the coalition, in a Friday statement. "Yet three decades and 30 COPs later, more than 1,500 fossil fuel lobbyists are roaming the climate talks as if they belong here. It is infuriating to watch their influence deepen year after year, making a mockery of the process and of the communities suffering its consequences."
While the overwhelming presence of fossil fuel lobbyists has once again diminished hopes that anything worthwhile will emerge from the conference, the tens of thousands in the streets on Saturday represented the ongoing determination of the global climate movement.
João Talocchi, co-founder of Alianza Potência Energética Latin America, one of the key groups behind the "Funeral for Fossil Fuels" portion of the day's action—which included mock caskets for the oil, gas, and coal companies alongside parades of jungle animals, wind turbines, and solar panels representing what's at stake and the better path forward—noted the key leadership of Indigenous groups from across the Global South.
"From the Global South to the world, we are showing what a fair and courageous energy transition must look like," said Talochhi.
Ilan Zugman, director of 350.org in Latin America and the Caribbean, noted the significance of the demonstration, including the symbolism of the funeral procession.
"We march symbolically burying fossil fuels because they are the root of the crisis threatening our lives," explained Zugman. "Humanity already knows the way forward: clean energy, climate justice, and respect for the peoples who protect life. What is missing is political courage to break once and for all with oil, gas, and coal. It is time to put these old fuels where they belong—in the ground of history.”
With the COP30 at its midway point, climate activists warn that not nearly enough progress is being made, with the outsized influence of the fossil fuel industry one of the key reasons that governments, year after year and decade after decade, continue to drag their feet when it comes to taking the kind of aggressive actions to stem the climate crisis that scientists and experts say is necessary.
“We are taking to the streets because, while governments are not acting fast enough to make polluters pay for their climate damages at COP30, extreme weather events continue to wreak havoc across the globe," said Abdoulaye Diallo, co-head of Greenpeace International's "Make Polluters Pay" campaign. "That is why we are here, carrying the climate polluters bill, showing the projected economic damages of more than $5 trillion from the emissions of just five oil and gas companies over the last decade."
"Fossil fuel companies are destroying our planet, and people are paying the price," said Diallo. "Negotiators must wake up to the growing public and political pressure to make polluters pay, and agree to new polluter taxes in the final COP30 outcome."
Hurricane Melissa was no “natural disaster.” It was the predictable result of choices made by powerful interests that continue to profit from a warming planet.
The wind began howling shortly after midnight on a Tuesday morning. My husband and I gathered the children and moved them into our designated “safe space.” We couldn’t sleep. The roof groaned. The windows rattled. By dawn, the sun broke through to reveal the aftermath. Debris and fallen trees littered the area around our home, but we were fortunate—though we’d lost power, our house was intact. But as I scrolled through the images now flooding social media, primarily from the western side of the island, my emotions swung from relief to despair to sorrow. Black River, Savanna-la-Mar, Santa Cruz, Treasure Beach, Montego Bay, and many other communities were devastated.
Hurricane Melissa, a Category 5 storm at landfall, approached Jamaica slowly before drifting westward along the southern coast. Meteorologists struggled to predict its path. The storm’s slow crawl and eventual path across Jamaica brought something even more dangerous: hours of torrential rain, widespread flooding, and destructive winds.
It’s already considered among the most powerful Atlantic hurricanes in recent history. Yet as the media breathlessly warned of the dangers, few spoke of the connection between this storm and the climate crisis. We kept hearing the term “natural disaster.” Hurricane Melissa, however, was anything but natural.
While hurricanes are natural hazards, the scale of destruction we now face is man-made. Over the past century, the burning of coal, oil, and gas has supercharged our atmosphere with greenhouse gases, trapping heat and warming the oceans that fuel storms like Melissa. Warmer seas mean more intense hurricanes, heavier rainfall, and slower-moving systems that linger and devastate. Meteorologists continuously emphasized how warm the Caribbean Sea was before Melissa made landfall, and how deep the warm water extended, fueling the hurricane.
As the media breathlessly warned of the dangers, few spoke of the connection between this storm and the climate crisis.
While fossil fuel companies have known about the correlation between the warming and a changing climate for decades, they have spent billions sowing doubt, funding misinformation, and lobbying against climate policies that could have curbed emissions. Their profits have come at the expense of our safety and our future. Countries like Jamaica, responsible for less than one percent of global emissions, are left to shoulder the costs of adaptation, recovery, and rebuilding. Longer recovery times and deeper economic strain are becoming the norm.
So, no, Hurricane Melissa was not a “natural disaster.” It was the predictable result of choices made by powerful interests that continue to profit from a warming planet. If global emissions are not drastically reduced urgently, these events will only escalate.
After a disaster, we often applaud those who are able to recover quickly. But we cannot just be resilient in the face of climate chaos —we must be climate resilient. This type of resilience goes further: it’s about the capacity of individuals, communities, and ecosystems to anticipate, prepare for, and respond to the impacts of the climate crisis. That ability to recover means more than rebuilding roads, bridges, hospitals, schools, and homes. It means enforcing environmental laws that prevent unsafe development, investing in nature-based solutions, and ensuring that recovery reaches everyone. It also means supporting community-led adaptation initiatives that are rooted in local knowledge and collective care.
Preparedness must become a culture, not a scramble, before a storm makes landfall. That includes maintaining drainage systems year-round, preserving wetlands that buffer storm surges, enforcing no-build zones and ensuring that technical experts, including meteorologists, hydrologists, and climate scientists—not just politicians—play visible roles in guiding public communication and action.
Hurricane Melissa forces us to confront this issue of climate justice. That’s why the Caribbean Climate Justice Alliance, a coalition of grassroots leaders, creatives, academics, and activists, is calling for bold, unified, justice-centered action at COP30 happening right now in Brazil. The message to world leaders is clear:
This message reflects the lived realities of people across our islands. Hurricane Melissa has reminded us of our vulnerability, but also of our strength, our knowledge, and our capacity to lead. In the coming weeks and months, as relief turns to recovery, we must also keep an eye on transformation. The choices we make now about how we rebuild our towns and cities, as well as how we support farmers, fishers, and community groups will determine whether the next storm brings the same level of devastation.
Let Hurricane Melissa mark not just a moment to rebuild, but a turning point for radical and just changes that are long overdue.